


No.5 Take Me Instead

by LiGi



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: "Take me instead", BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon-Typical Violence, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Hurt Lancelot (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), No 5, Protective Lancelot (Merlin), bandits, can be mercelot if you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiGi/pseuds/LiGi
Summary: Febuwhump 2021 day 5 - "Take Me Instead"Lancelot and Merlin are out gathering herbs when they are attacked by a group of bandits looking to kidnap the prince's manservant.
Relationships: Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin)
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137632
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	No.5 Take Me Instead

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Onehelluvapilot for betaing - go and read her febuwhumps as well!

Lancelot smiled as Merlin began humming. He recognised the tune as one the minstrels had been playing at the banquet the other night, except Merlin was humming it slightly out of tune.

Letting his sword still for a moment, he leant back against a tree and joined in whistling, emphasising the correct notes whenever Merlin missed one. Merlin looked up at him with a grin, then chucked a twig at his head. Lancelot easily ducked it.

“I never claimed to be able to carry a tune,” Merlin said with a laugh.

“Carry on, Merlin. I was enjoying it.” Lancelot grinned.

Merlin rolled his eyes and went back to picking herbs, humming louder and even more out of tune. Lancelot laughed and gave his sword a twirl. He’d tried helping Merlin gather the herbs, but after Merlin complaining he’d picked the wrong thing for the fourth time, he decided to stop. Instead he’d been practicing footwork, one of the drills Leon had taught him.

It was certainly easier to move without his chainmail. He’d forgone the armour today seeing as he was just gathering herbs with Merlin rather than out on knightly duties. But he found it almost made him revert back to his old fighting style, a little wider with his swings, a little jumpier on his toes. It reminded him of his younger self.

He grinned as he perfectly executed one of Leon’s lunge parry riposte moves. If only his younger self could have known he’d become a Knight of the Round Table.

A noise in the undergrowth behind them had Lancelot instinctively spinning around, his sword coming up to chest height as his knees dropped into a ready stance. Merlin stopped humming and looked up like a startled deer.

Four bandits burst from the trees, rushing towards them with a battle cry.

Lancelot easily stepped in front of Merlin, his sword flashing as he cut down the first man. He blocked a blow from the second and pushed him backward, knocking the third man to the floor.

He heard Merlin mutter a spell and a heavy branch broke from the tree above them with a tremendous cracking sound. It fell to knock out the fourth man who was circling around the two fighting Lancelot. He collapsed with the branch across his back.

With several quick slashes Lancelot dispatched the two bandits in front of him as well.

A yell from behind him made his heart jump to his throat. He whipped around. Whilst they had fought the four men in front of them, several others had crept up behind them.

A large man was holding Merlin, one arm tight around his neck, the other hand pressing a cloth hard against his nose and mouth. Merlin was writhing and scrabbling at the hand smothering him, but his eyes looked glazed and Lancelot could only guess there was some kind of sedative on the cloth.

He stepped forwards, raising his sword towards the man holding his friend as Merlin’s movements grew weaker.

“Don’t take another step,” said a cold voice.

Another man came forwards, twirling a dagger in his hand. He gestured and two men with crossbows came up to the sides, their weapons trained on Lancelot. Another lifted a sword to meet Lancelot’s, the blade just inches away from knocking Lancelot’s down.

“Release him!” Lancelot shouted, worried by the way Merlin’s face was going red from the pressure on his throat.

“No. Put your sword down.”

Lancelot froze as he felt a blade at his back, through his light jacket. The man in front of him lunged forwards but with the sword at his back Lancelot couldn’t parry. The other man’s sword sliced into his hand. With a cry, Lancelot dropped his sword, bringing his hand to his chest.

“Get him down,” the man with the cold voice, who seemed to be the leader, demanded. Lancelot was shoved forwards, falling to his knees painfully then being kicked in the back. He instinctively tried to catch himself but with his injured hand. The pain shooting up his arm made him collapse forwards and a heavy boot was slammed down onto his back, holding him pressed to the ground.

He turned his head, ignoring the scrape of rough earth and dry leaves, to look at Merlin. The bandits had closed in around him now.

“Is that him?” the leader asked. He was peering at Merlin, who seemed to be wavering just on the edge of consciousness.

“Yeah, I think so. Trails after the prince like a puppy.”

“Good. Tie his hands, we’ll get him back to camp.”

“What do you want from him?” Lancelot shouted, trying to use his good hand to push himself up. But the man standing on his back wouldn’t allow him even an inch.

“Prince’s manservant, isn’t he?” one said, spitting in Merlin’s face.

“The things he could tell us with the right persuasion…”

The bandits laughed as the one with the dagger dragged it up Merlin’s side, slicing his shirt and drawing a thin line of blood.

Lancelot’s heart went cold. They wanted to torture Merlin for information on Arthur.

“No!”

Merlin was manhandled as two of the men yanked his arms behind him and tied his wrists then threw him to the floor. His eyes looked blank and unfocussed and he didn’t respond when Lancelot shouted his name. One man kicked him and he moaned but didn’t move.

“Don’t hurt him! Please!” Lancelot called to the men but that just made them laugh. Merlin was kicked again.

“Get him up,” the leader said offhandedly, gesturing to Merlin.

The big man hefted Merlin up over his shoulder as one of the crossbows was swung down to Lancelot’s head.

“No, wait!” he shouted. “Take me instead!”

“Why? Who’re you, some other random servant?”

Lancelot wished he had worn his chainmail, or even just his red cloak.

“I’m a knight. One of the Round Table.”

“The who?” The foot on his back ground down, making him gasp as pain flared through his chest. His injured hand was crushed underneath his stomach and he could feel the wetness of blood seeping through the front of his shirt.

“Prince Arthur’s chosen few,” the leader said, a curious note to his voice. He crouched to look closer at Lancelot and grabbed a handful of his hair to yank his head up. “Are you indeed?”

“Explains this sword, certainly,” the man who had knocked the weapon from his hand said. He was holding Lancelot’s sword, examining the fine workmanship of the blade and the engravings on the pommel. “This is a knight’s sword.”

“So…” The leader grinned. “We’ve got ourselves one of Camelot’s finest knights. I bet you know even more than him,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the man holding Merlin.

“Let him go,” Lancelot begged. “He’s just a servant, he knows nothing. The prince doesn’t even like him,” he lied, coughing.

The man standing on Lancelot was pushed off and instead the knight was hauled up to his knees. His injured hand was agony as blood rushed to it now that it wasn’t being squashed under him. Blood dripped to the floor in a steady dribble.

The leader got to his feet with a satisfied smirk, carelessly waving a hand at the big man.

“Lose him. The knight’s a better prize.”

Merlin was dropped, his limp body thudding to the floor like a ragdoll.

Hands pulled Lancelot’s arms back and ropes were wound around his wrists, scraping painfully against the cut on his hand. His fingers were slick with blood. But he didn’t care. He let them drag him up to his feet, his eyes fixed on Merlin.

He silently begged him to move, to show any sign that he was alright. But nothing happened.

The men holding Lancelot pulled him roughly around, so he couldn’t see Merlin anymore, pushing him so he staggered. He struggled to keep his balance without the help of his arms. One of the bandits laughed and shoved him into one of the others, who growled and shoved him back again, until he was being pushed around like a child circled by bullies.

If only he could get a weapon. His sword was shoved into the belt of the bandit who’d disarmed him, the man’s hand resting on the fine pommel where it clinked beside his own plain cheap sword.

As he was shoved again he stumbled towards the man with the swords. He twisted his uninjured left hand and turned his shoulder so that his hand almost grabbed the sword from the unsuspecting man’s belt.

“Oi!” A dagger was jammed into Lancelot’s side. His knees buckled but he was held up by the large man who had his arm. The short blade was pulled out and raised to jab back in again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The sudden voice behind them made the bandits jump and whip around. Lancelot’s heart soared as he turned as well.

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the man with the dagger behind Lancelot screamed as he was thrown through the air. Surprise registered on the faces of the bandits, and the crossbows swung around to point at Merlin instead.

He shoved his hands out in front of him, his eyes blazing as he shouted a spell.

The crossbowmen flew backwards into the trees.

A quick golden-eyed nod at Lancelot and he felt the ropes around his wrists snap. He spun, punching out at the man to his side with his left hand and snatching his sword back. He backed up, getting space to wield the blade around in an arc towards the leader.

Merlin shouted another spell and a whirlwind knocked them all off their feet, including Lancelot. He grunted as the wound in his side flared with pain. But he wasn’t complaining because, while he managed to stagger back to his feet, none of the bandits did.

Once he was sure all of the bandits were down, Lancelot turned to find Merlin. His friend was already hurrying towards him and Lancelot ran to his side, both catching the others’ arms to hold each other steady.

“Are you alright?” Lancelot asked, his eyes roaming over the warlock for any signs of injury. Other than a bruise forming across his neck and the thin line of blood down his side he looked fine.

“Yes, are you?” Merlin’s hands fluttered to the stab wound on Lancelot’s side, another spell on his lips as his eyes once more glowed. Lancelot felt the warmth of the healing magic spread over him, gently tugging at the wound until it was completely gone. Then Merlin pulled Lancelot’s blood covered hand to his chest, cupping both of his own hands around it, the same healing warmth circling the cut.

“I am now,” Lancelot said with a smile, his non-injured hand reaching to squeeze Merlin’s arm. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Don’t risk your life like that again!” Merlin scolded him. “You know I could have handled it.”

“Not unconscious you couldn’t.”

“I would’ve managed.”

“Of course you would,” Lancelot humoured him, pulling him into a tight hug.

**Author's Note:**

> I love any and all comments!


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